The following morning provided such exquisite weather that even the most despairing of students would certainly have forgotten, if only for a moment, that they had been forced to spend their Sunday confined to the tight perimeter of the castle.

With a mysterious dead body showing up outside the Quidditch pitch in the middle of a game, no student had been allowed to venture beyond the immediate exterior of Hogwarts for the remainder of the weekend. Louisa, not entirely certain whether the Greenhouses could definitely be considered within that guideline, decided to take her chances.

The Hufflepuff common room had been abnormally loud with restless students looking for entertainment; Valeria, as was her way in the event of drama, distracted herself with Quidditch strategy for the next game; Will, in search of solitude, had slipped away early to study in the library, the events of the weekend weighing heavily on his own memories of death years before.

Wandering down in her favourite waist-hugging flared jeans and well-worn red jumper, Louisa had conceded to herself earlier that morning that any amount of grubby extra credit work with Professor Sprout was far more tolerable than listening to the younger students gossip about the dead body.

Walking alongside the first greenhouse, she could make out Professor Sprout's stout little figure through the cacophony of vines and flowering pot plants. She poked her head through an open window.

"Good morning Professor," she greeted.

Professor Sprout jumped a little, dropping her shears. She squinted up at Louisa, blinking several times.

"Ms Bright!" she exclaimed, "What on earth are you doing down here?"

Louisa ducked away from the window and hurried around to the doorway.

"I'm sorry Professor, I assumed I would still be helping you with some extra duties this morning."

"Certainly not," the Professor chided, retrieving her shears from the floor. "The Headmaster has specified that no students move beyond the castle perimeter – you know that."

"Sorry Professor," Louisa apologised. She folded her arms sheepishly. "The greenhouses are in a bit of a grey area."

Professor Sprout sighed. She seemed distracted and lacked the usual energy that was ever present in her bustling step. Louisa suspected the staff would have had a particularly long and sleepless night. She realised in that moment that waltzing down to the greenhouses despite the security lockdown had been rather arrogant on her part.

"You're a dedicated student, Ms Bright. But right now your safety is paramount."

Louisa nodded, making a move to leave the greenhouse.

"If you could do me one favour, however," the Professor requested, tossing jars and plant clippings into a canvas bag, "so that your trip down here is not entirely wasted…"

She extended the bag out to Louisa with an exhausted smile. "Madame Pomfrey needs her stocks replenished. If you drop these off to her, I will gladly award you a little extra credit."

Louisa let out a small laugh, slinging the bag around her shoulder. "Of course, Professor."

…..

As she climbed a monotonous wrought iron staircase, it became very apparent to Louisa that the hospital wing was a rather challenging part of the castle to reach. She mused that perhaps its location was intentionally obscure in the hopes that students looking to get out of classes or buy time on due assignments would think twice when faced with a journey almost as arduous as hiking to the owlery.

And yet, as Louisa met the landing, she wondered if it had always been so quiet in this part of the castle. She felt quite isolated the moment she began approaching the wing. In the distance, the door was slightly ajar. On the other side, several voices could be heard: that of a distraught woman followed by a man with a deep, gravelly accent, and finally a measured and gentle voice that unmistakably belonged to Albus Dumbledore.

The door was pushed outwards, revealing Dumbledore with a supportive arm around a plump middle-aged woman who, determined as she was to keep herself together, seemed more likely to sink to the floor. Just behind them was a solemn looking man in his sixties with peppery, short cut hair. Louisa instantly recognised him as the Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum.

Without thinking, Louisa slipped behind a wide stone pillar. Part of her knew that an encounter would have felt awkward and inappropriate, but the other part of her bubbled with concerned curiosity. She kept still, listening closely.

"I don't understand, Albus," the woman wept, "Herman would never have just come onto the grounds! He was too sick to wander beyond our garden. He knew his limits."

Behind them, Harold Minchum exhaled. "Hogwarts is one of the most well protected magical institutions in Britain, Dumbledore. These circumstances…"

"Herman had a great fondness for your bluebells as I recall, Iona," Dumbledore comforted. "I am almost certain he would have perched himself in that garden all day if it were up to him."

"I left him out there for a moment," Iona explained tearfully, "just a moment, Albus. And when I returned, he was nowhere to be found. But I promise he would never…"

Their voices grew smaller as they travelled down the hall and out of sight. Louisa emerged from behind the pillar, peering down the hall to make sure they had well and truly gone. There was a heaviness in her chest; a sense of sadness for the woman who had lost someone very important to her and a sense of guilt for listening to something so personal she really ought not to have heard.

She adjusted the canvas bag on her shoulder and continued toward the wing. Entering slowly, she looked around. Madame Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. A row of pristine, single beds lined either side of the room, each with their own bedside table and set of white curtains. At the back sat Madame Pomfrey's office and living quarters. The space was bright, with wide, arched windows offering generous views of the Hogwarts grounds below.

Louisa's eyes fell on a bed towards the back of the space. The curtain had been drawn, but the faint outline of a body could be seen, lying lifeless and facing upward. She walked along the beds, eyes forcefully focused ahead. She tried to block the drawn curtain from her peripherals as she passed by. After placing the bag on Madame Pomfrey's desk, she turned quickly with the intention of sprinting away without a second thought. But after one step, she couldn't take herself any further.

Louisa knew many people who had witnessed death first hand. Her parents were both doctors; her mother commuted to St Mungo's every day, working in the long term care ward, while her father ran a clinic for the small magical community surrounding Dover. Will had seen both of his parents die before his eyes. But Louisa had never been exposed so lucidly to death in all her life.

She moved towards the curtain slowly, extending an arm to draw it back ever so slightly. Her eyes landed on his face: Herman, who wasn't well, who loved bluebell flowers and who was so dearly loved by Iona. It was amazing to Louisa how those simple details she had ascertained minutes before made so much sense upon seeing this stranger's face.

Her eyes travelled to his hands. She let out a small gasp. They were mangled beyond repair. Blackened, raw clumps rested where human hands should have.

"Ms Bright?!"

A shrill, unwavering voice cut across the room. Louisa jumped, turning her head to the entrance of the wing. Madame Pomfrey, alarmed, hurried to her. She closed the curtain sharply before turning to Louisa.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"Madame Pomfrey, I…"

"Why are you here? Are you unwell?"

Speechless, Louisa took a step back. "No, no," she assured, stuttering a little. "I brought…Professor Sprout sent me up with medicinal stock from the greenhouses."

Madame Pomfrey was caught between concern for her student and anger at her invasiveness.

Louisa swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. "I'm sorry, Madame Pomfrey, I shouldn't have looked."

She hurried out of the hospital wing, embarrassed, ashamed and terrified.

…..

Her body, it seemed, had decided on a destination before her mind. Louisa felt as though she was dashing around aimlessly, but eventually realised she was headed for the library. She wasn't ready to return to the Hufflepuff common room, where she knew students would still be keenly discussing all that had occurred the day before.

The library was rich in atmosphere, with thick red carpet, beaming mahogany furnishings and rustic shelves housing thousands upon thousands of books on every topic imaginable. Almost all of the tables were occupied with students, which was unusual for a weekend, but not surprising given the circumstances. Louisa bypassed the frazzled Ms Irma Pince, Hogwarts' neurotic and uptight librarian, in search of Will or Valeria.

She found both of them sprawled out on a round table beneath an ornate stained glass window. They had spread themselves thin, with their belongings covering every inch of their area.

Louisa plonked herself down next to Valeria, heart still racing from her encounter in the hospital wing. Will peeled himself away from a heavy old book opposite her, sighing in frustration.

"I have never had to fight so hard for a table in the library," she whispered melodramatically, peering around defensively at the surrounding students. "And now I simply cannot work on my quidditch strategy. Any one of them could be spying."

"Why didn't you stay in the common room?" Louisa asked, rolling her head back to look at the ceiling.

"There was so much talk of the dead body, Lou," Valeria insisted, "so much so that I thought I was beginning to see it everywhere I looked."

Louisa gave a half-hearted grunt in response. She wanted to reveal what she had seen to her friends desperately, but the thought of Iona's trembling figure prevented her from verbalising anything.

"Oh, these came for you," Valeria remembered, reaching into her bag. She placed a stack of individual letters in Louisa's lap.

Louisa examined them, surprised. "Where did you get these?"

"Winnie dropped them on my head when I was walking to the library," she explained. "I think she was sick of carrying them around."

The letters were all written by Louisa, addressed to her sister, Edie. A month's worth of undelivered correspondence felt extremely heavy in her hands.

"Is Winnie on strike at the moment?" Valeria joked.

Will looked from the letters to Louisa's crinkled brow. "Why aren't the letters being delivered?"

Louisa swallowed another lump that had risen in her throat. She took a deep, disappointed breath. "I don't know," she admitted, placing them on the table. "At first I wasn't receiving any reply…but now this."

"Do you think it has to do with the…you know…the rebellion?"

"What?" Valeria chimed in, placing a hand on Louisa's shoulder. "I haven't heard about any of this."

"Don't worry, I'll tell you later." Louisa assured her friend whilst shrugging at Will. "There's too many people in here."

Valeria squeezed her shoulder before returning to her secretive attempt at quidditch strategy.

Louisa peered over at Will's homework. "Is that for Transfiguration?"

He nodded, flipping through the book in front of him. "Yeah, but I'd have finished by now if I'd been able to find the revised edition of this textbook."

"Oh no, you've been using the old version?"

"Well, Ms Pince said there was a revised copy available but it isn't where it should be. And I don't think she's in a particularly helpful mood right now."

They looked over at the librarian, who was furiously sorting through a tower of returned books.

"Don't worry," Louisa promised, signalling to a section behind them. "I'm sure I saw Ravenna Selwyn put it with the history books on Friday. I'll go and have a look."

Louisa rose from her seat and weaved her way through the ocean of students to the history section. She disappeared into the labyrinth of shelves, trying to remember the spot where she'd seen the book. She found it towards the end of a dense row of books by Bathilda Bagshot. She reached for the textbook, placing a hand on the spine. She stopped a moment, noticing that her hand was trembling. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves.

Slowly, she pulled the book from the shelf, almost dropping it as she sighted Sirius and Allegra snogging in the row next door.

"You've got to be kidding me," Louisa groaned. Her comment was louder than she had intended. The couple promptly broke apart, Sirius grinning through the shelf at Louisa.

"Voyeurism becomes you, Lou Lou."

"Don't call me 'Lou Lou'," she retorted, pushing a particularly large, dusty book across his face.

He ambled around the shelf separating them, leaning casually against it. "Don't be jealous, it's the seventies, free love abounds."

"Be serious, for once in your life."

"I'm always Sirius in my life."

"How many times have you used that one?"

"It's the gift that keeps on giving, honestly."

Allegra stood behind Sirius, arms folded impatiently, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry I've taken up so much of your precious time," Louisa said pointedly at Allegra. She turned to Sirius, "At least you have your priorities straight."

She noticed him watching her trembling hands. He took a step towards her.

"What's going on?"

The question was quiet and genuine. It caught Louisa off guard. She backed away without a word, retreating back through the shelves.

When she reached Will and Valeria, she found Will sopping wet and his homework damp and smudged.

"What happened?"

Will stared at his homework, dejected.

"Regulus Black sauntered through with his stupid gang of followers and threw a jinx at Will as they passed." Valeria snapped, trying to siphon the water from her friend.

Louisa tossed the book onto her chair. "Where did he go?"

"They left the library," Valeria grumbled. "Just forget it Lou, they're not worth it."

"But our friend is," she stated, hurrying out of the library.

…..

Louisa pushed open the door furiously, looking around. Regulus and his Slytherin friends were rounding a corner in the distance.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Louisa called out.

The group stopped, staring her down. Regulus moved to approach her. He halted suddenly before turning around once more, his friends hurrying after him. They disappeared around the corner.

Louisa, confused, looked behind her. Sirius was standing there, shaking his head.

"Don't bother with him," he reasoned, "he's a lost cause."

"Right," Louisa replied, swivelling to fully face Sirius. "I won't bother with him the way you didn't bother with him yesterday after the match."

"He knows his limits with me," he explained, "but not with other people."

"You're his older brother!" she ranted, her arms flying around in exasperation. "Why don't you do something? Stop standing by while he torments my friend."

Sirius ran a hand through his shaggy locks. A twitch of an emotion Louisa had not seen before flashed across his face - was it frustration?

"Don't talk about my relationship with my brother."

"You've practically abandoned him!" But Louisa was no longer talking about Sirius and Regulus. Thoughts of her sister swelled inside her mind and simply couldn't control herself.

"Don't talk about things you know nothing about," Sirius blurted. His tone was confused – he was caught somewhere between his usual blasé demeanour and the growing agitation behind it. "You're exceptionally frustrating, you know that?"

"I'm frustrating?! You seem to have an inability to maintain a simple, straightforward conversation. You're impossible."

"That's funny, impossible is the one word I'd use to describe you!" he snarled, storming away down the corridor.

Valeria and Will emerged from the library a moment later. Valeria looked from Will, downtrodden and depressed, to Louisa, who appeared manic and slightly wild.

"Oh boy," she muttered.

…

At lunch, the three friends sat side-by-side along the Hufflepuff table. To the left, Will ran a fork through his food, barely making an effort to eat anything. In the middle, Valeria chewed on a piece of baguette awkwardly, unwilling to look at either of her friends. To the right, Louisa shoved mouthful after mouthful of potato angrily into her mouth. She was blinking back tears of anger and exhaustion. She raised her arm to her eyes and dried her tears with her jumper.

Valeria turned to her friend, trying to read her expression. "What's wrong? Are you crying?"

Louisa swallowed her last mouthful of potato and sniffed. "No."

"Lou, you're crying, look at you!"

She stood abruptly, brushing her jeans with her hands. "I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back."

Valeria tossed her baguette onto her plate, sighing. "What a day."

….

As Louisa wandered to the bathroom, a familiar figure approached her from the opposite direction. Albus Dumbledore was terrifically tall and surprisingly imposing when he travelled towards you. He seemed to catch you in a spider-web gaze so strong that you had no choice but to allow him to impart years of puzzling wisdom onto you.

Louisa mustered a terribly nervous smile as he approached.

"Ah, Ms Bright," he greeted her, gently. "What a pleasant coincidence."

"Professor Dumbledore," she responded. "Are you on your way to lunch?"

"Alas, I am only passing through." He admitted with a small chuckle. He folded a lolly wrapper in half and tucked it into his robe pocket. "A fizzing whizzbee shall have to suffice until dinner time."

"Ah, I see."

"And where might you be off to?"

"The bathroom, sir."

He smiled kindly with a twinkle in his eye. "You will forgive me for being so blunt, Ms Bright," he uttered, "but I see that this morning's journey to the hospital wing has left you deeply disturbed."

He nodded to her hands which were shaking by her side. She clasped them behind her back self-consciously.

"I should apologise, Sir…"

Dumbledore shook his head knowingly. "Death is perhaps the most intriguing and mysterious part of life," he pondered. "And though it can never be fully understood, I find it best managed in our minds when it is shared with those whom we trust."

"Thank you, sir."

"A friend will always listen when given the chance to."

Dumbledore smiled once more, moving past Louisa.

"This meeting wasn't a coincidence," she queried, "was it, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I find, Ms Bright, that the events we consider to be pure coincidence are anything but."